Memory
by TheFreshApple
Summary: Some mistakes can't be fixed. Postmovie, MurphyOC... Just a little oneshot.


**Disclaimer:** What's theirs is theirs, what's mine is mine… Simple as that.

**A/N:** I was listening to this song, and watching this movie, and I realized that the boys really need some kind of a past to go along with their mission… so this is a filler until I get my story up. :)

**Song:** More Than A Memory by Garth Brooks

----------

_People say she's only in my head_

_Gonna take time but I'll forget_

_They say I need to get on with my life_

_But they don't realize_

"And shepherds we shall be. For Thee, my Lord, for Thee. Power hath descended forth from Thy hand. Our feet may swiftly carry out Thy commands. So we shall flow a river forth to Thee. And teeming with souls shall it ever be.

"Et Nomeni Patri, Et Fili, Spiritus Sancti."

**BANG.**

Sighing softly, the two brothers crossed themselves as they placed pennies over the eyes of their hapless victims, a group of pimps, whoring off innocent girls for the pleasure of other scumbags that littered the streets of New York City. After the last bit of copper had been set, the fairer of the two crossed the room, picking up a list of phone numbers from a shabby looking desk. Shaking his head with disgust, Connor MacManus called to his brother, "Would ye look at that? Even the mayor of this God-forsaken city has called in here once or twice."

Murphy scoffed his displeasure, surveying the havoc they had wreaked upon these six men. "Fuckers."

A sound from the doorway made both men turn and look at the elderly man leaning against the doorframe. While he had let his boys take care of the filth, Da MacManus had taken the four girls out of the slaughter and led them to the safety of the NYPD. "Ye'll be safe here, dears. Just tell the policemen yer names and they'll get you back to yer families." _Or there would be hell to pay._

Il Duce nodded his head, taking in the blood and gore. "Nice work, boyos."

Connor and Murphy's lips split into identical grins, happy with the knowledge they had made their father proud. After meeting him a mere six months ago, they had all found a way to work together that accommodated everyone's liking. If there were no innocent lives in the room, all three men would take care of business. But lately, father had been standing back, letting sons do the work. He hated to let them know he was getting old, and his shaky hand when he held his gun was a dead giveaway.

Pushing off the doorframe, Da stood, groaning a little as his muscles struggled to keep up. "We'd best get out of here. No tellin' who heard what."

The trio cleaned up quickly and slipped out the open window and down the fire escape, into the night. A few blocks down and over, there was a bar named O'Hallans, and that's where they had found refuge on nights like these. After dropping their bags off at the apartment the three shared, the brothers set off.

"Da's gettin' soft," Murphy commented as they crossed the street to the pub.

Connor grunted, shouldering open the door, smiling as they were greeted by shouts of good humor and welcome. "He's not exactly young anymore. What did ye fuckin' expect?"

"I fuckin' know that. I was just makin' an observation." Murphy led the way through the crowds to a table in the back, sitting heavily in one of the chairs there. "He missed two shots last time," he continued in Gaelic, not wanting to be overheard.

Smiling at a waitress, Connor ordered two beers and waited until she was out of earshot before looking back at his brother. "I know. I didn't want to say anythin', in case he wanted ta try a little target practice on us."

Murphy snorted. "That would be him, alright."

"You two speak Gaelic?" The waitress was back, her long brown hair swinging in a ponytail as she set down two mugs. "My mother was from Ireland, and she tried to teach me, but God knows I don't have any use for it here." She stood, balancing her tray on her hip. "It's a pretty language though."

"Aye. That it is." Connor flashed her another grin and watched her walk away. "That was close." He reached for his beer. "Almost too close. Eh, Murph?" As he tilted the mug to his lips, he realized that he hadn't been answered. "Murph?"

Murphy's blue eyes, clearer than the brightest morning, had followed the waitress back to the bar, but he wasn't seeing her – his gaze was miles and years away…

_When you're dialing 6 numbers just to hang up the phone,_

_Driving cross town just to see if she's home_

_Waking a friend in the dead of the night_

_Just to hear him say it's going to be all right_

"Shit, Murphy. If we get caught, it goes on yer fuckin' conscience." Caitlin McPhee rubbed her arms nervously, her brown hair swinging over her shoulder as she checked behind them. Murphy merely smirked and held out his hand. "Are you comin', or do I have ta swing ye over my shoulder and bring ye meself?"

Rolling her spicy green eyes, Caitlin leaped over the gap in the rooftops easily. "Don't flatter yerself, MacManus. I was only warnin' ye. We wouldn't want dear Conner to be worried about ye whilst ye spend the night in prison."

"Connor's got his hands full with that friend of yers." Murphy weaved through the stacks and chimney pipes, his eyes focused on the horizon. "Maeve will keep him sane."

"Ye hope." Caitlin caught her boyfriend by the sleeve, pulling with so much force that he spun around and nearly knocked her off her feet. "Do ye plan on tellin' me where the fuck we're goin'?"

"In a minute. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Caitlin McPhee, **you** are the most impatient woman I've ever known."

Caitlin scoffed and pulled her long hair into a ponytail, walking past Murphy with her nose in the air. "That's because I'm the only woman besides yer ma that ye've been brave enough ta talk ta." She shrugged and kept walking, ignoring his indignant grunt. "And yer ma's a saint for puttin' up with ye two."

She stopped at the edge of the rooftop, looking into the street below. "Murph, there's no place left ta go. What the fu-"

Strong arms around her waist and warm breath on her neck cut her off. Murphy's lips traced a gentle pattern along the column of her throat. "Do ye know what time it is?" At Caitlin's slow shake of head, Murphy grinned against her skin. "It's five-thirty in the mornin'. Perfect time for a sunrise."

As though waiting for his words, the sky lit up in a glorious array of color. Pink and orange danced through the blue and purple of the early dawn. Caitlin felt her breath leave her lungs as the chilly November air seemed to catch fire.

"I stood upon the hills, when heaven's wide arch / Was glorious with the sun's returning march/ And woods were brightened, and soft gales / Went forth to kiss the sun-clad vales. / The clouds were far beneath me; bathed in light/ They gathered mid-way round the wooded height/ And, in their fading glory, shone / Like hosts in battle overthrown." Murphy's rough voice tickled her ear and Caitlin smiled.

"Sunrise on the Hills, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. And here I was thinkin' ye never paid attention in school." Her face turned up for a kiss, Caitlin's eyes closed gently when Murphy's lips met hers. They stood there for a moment, consumed by each other, until the sounds of the waking village reached them. Caitlin pulled away, sighing. "I'm glad ye came all the way across town ta get me for this."

Murphy smiled and tucked his head into her shoulder. "Aye. So am I. Happy seventeenth birthday, Cate."

_When you're finding things to do, not to fall asleep_

_Cause you know she will be there in your dreams_

_That's when she's_

_More than a memory_

Connor threw open the apartment door the brothers shared with their father, his face contorted into one of complete frustration. Da MacManus looked up from the gun he was cleaning, alarm written on his craggy features. "The fuck is goin' on?"

"Ask yer son!" Connor shouted, storming to the refrigerator to grab a beer. "Ask him what he fuckin' did that made it so we was the laughin' stock of the entire fuckin' female population!"

Murphy lounged against the doorframe, his arms crossed. "I didn't mean ta, Conn. Surely ye know that."

His face softened for a moment before Connor shook his head and took a swig out of the can. "Aye, but that doesn't change much. Ye called her Caitlin, for Christ's sake. After she told ye her name was Rachel!"

"It's not me fault that she looks just like her."

"For fuck's sake, Murph, it's been six years. Give it up. Please. For me own love life's sake, give it the fuck up."

"And do what, exactly? Pretend that she never existed?"

Connor ran a hand over his face, his features suddenly older than his years. Da MacManus had been watching all this with extreme curiosity, and now he wanted some answers. Raising his hand that was still holding the gun, he waved it slowly, getting his sons' attention. "Ye mind tellin' me what's goin' on? Murphy? What happened?"

Murphy let out a shaky breath and crossed the floor to drop heavily to his mattress. "It's a long story, Da."

"Not that long, Murph. Don't flatter yerself." Connor sat down across from his brother on his own bed. "Da, when we was just sixteen, back in Ireland, there was a girl by the name of Caitlin McPhee. She was a spitfire and a free spirit besides. And Murph here was bound and determined ta tame her."

Murphy's face, which had been staring off at the wall behind his brother's head at first, split into an enormous grin, and his eyes switched to his father's face. "She didn't make it easy, that's for damn sure."

Da sighed, shaking his head. "Ye boys are too young ta be thinkin' about love and whatnot."

The boys exchanged glances before bursting into peals of laughter. "How old was Ma when ye got her pregnant with us? Twenty-one?" Connor fell over backwards, clutching his sides. His brother clutched his knees, gasping for breath. "Aye. How can ye tell us that we're too young?"

Da rolled his eyes and continued on with his wipe down. "So what happened?"

Murphy immediately stopped giggling and rolled over, his back facing his family. Connor grew sober, lighting up a cigarette thoughtfully. "They were inseparable for about three years. Then, when we told her we was goin' ta America after our twentieth birthday, somethin' changed… I suppose we told her at the wrong time and all, but still…"

"When did you tell her you boys was goin'?" Da raised his eyebrows and Connor lowered his head like a scolded child. "About a day before we left."

The low whistle that emitted from their father's lips made both the boys cringe. "Damn. How'd she take it?"

Connor sighed and cast a sorrowful look at his brother. Murphy rolled over and propped his arms behind his head. "Not well," they said in unison.

_I took a match to everything she ever wrote_

_Watched her words go up in smoke_

_Tore all her pictures off the wall_

_That ain't helping me at all_

Murphy lit up another cigarette to replace the dying butt that was now suffocating in the ashtray on the table. Caitlin was late. A silhouette in the dying afternoon light made him look up and he saw Connor, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe. "She's not here yet?"

Murphy shook his head and sighed, cigarette drooping dangerously. "No. Ye know how she is. Five minutes behind the rest of the world." He ran a shaky hand over his face, surprised at his own unease. "If she doesn't show up soon, I don't know if I'll be able to tell her."

Connor sat down heavily at the kitchen table next to his brother. "Keep smokin' like a chimney and see if she turns up at all." His teasing grin disappeared as Murphy shot him a withering look. "Listen, Murph, ye've got ta tell her. Ta just leave her would be a terrible crime." He drummed his fingers on the table. "I know it'll hurt, but just remember that it's for her safety—"

A sharp rapping on the door caused the twins to turn, identical looks of expectance on their faces. Caitlin's face, etched with something Murphy couldn't quite place, peered in at them through the window. He got up to let her in and she slipped through the door quickly, rubbing her arms and swearing.

"Fuck. It's gettin' colder, I swear." She raised her face up for a kiss and Murphy obliged her, wrapping his fingers in her thick brown hair. The kiss was deep and scary, almost too passionate to be real. Caitlin's knees shook as she caressed the side of her boyfriend's face. He pulled back for a moment, licking his lips. "Ready?"

"Yeah," she said, a little breathless. "Hi, Connor. Bye, Connor."

Connor raised his eyebrows, but didn't say a word as his twin and his surrogate sister disappeared through the door. He picked up Murphy's cigarettes, placing one between his lips. Caitlin was a terrific girl. He hated to see her get hurt, but Murphy had put this off for far too long. It was high time his brother took responsibility for his actions. Murphy had fallen in love with this girl, lock, stock, and barrel. To deny her the truth would be denying her everything.

---

Caitlin wrapped her arms around her stomach, trying to understand. "Ye mean ta tell me that you're leavin' for America **tomorrow**?"

Murphy chewed his thumbnail, wishing he had told her sooner. He could kill for a cigarette right now, but he had left them at the house with Connor. His silence was all the answer she needed. Caitlin stared at him for a moment, trying to grasp the meaning of his words before she reached out and soundly punched him on the shoulder. "And you fuckin' decide to tell me this **now**?"

He hadn't moved when she had hit him, but her words were like acid rain falling on his bare skin. Murphy turned his face up to look at her, his eyes begging. "Please, Cate, try to understand…"

"Understand? Understand?" Her voice shook with anger and sadness. "What the fuck do ye want me ta understand, Murphy? That yer leavin'? Or that ye've been lyin' ta me these past coupla weeks? Fuck ye, Murphy."

He wanted to reach out and hold her, to smooth down her hair and tell her that it would all be okay, like he had that time her youngest brother had gotten in a fight and barely gotten out with his life. But he couldn't. Hell, he couldn't even look her in the face.

He saw her hand too late to move. It wouldn't have helped him much anyway. Her palm connected with the side of his face and his blue eyes sparked with anger. He looked up quickly, opening his mouth to retort, when he saw the tears leaking out of her eyes like someone had opened a faucet. "I love ye," she whispered, "I thought ye were the man God had put on this earth for me ta marry. What a fuckin' disappointment." Her shoulders shook with suppressed sobs. "Connor's goin' with ye then?"

Murphy nodded once, feeling his throat burn and his eyes sting. He had never cried before, at least, not after his thirteenth birthday. He couldn't understand how his decision was hurting him, but it was. "Aye. He is."

She turned and rested her arms on the wooden railing of the bridge. He had brought her here; to the first place he had ever smoked a cigarette, stolen a sip of whiskey… and kissed her. The bridge overlooked the small river that ran through the village, and in the stormy twilight, the river gleamed like a silver snake winding through the lush green of his home. Her eyes seemed to be searching the horizon for something she couldn't quite place. "Fuck ye, Murphy," she whispered, almost to soft for him to hear. He could see her tears glinting down her cheeks and his whole chest constricted with pain.

Murphy had his arms wrapped around Caitlin before she could stop him, and his touch sent her over the edge. She sobbed like a newborn babe into his jacket lapel, her fingers clutching at his arms, his neck, his hair. She breathed in his scent, wanting nothing more than to make reality go away. When she realized it wouldn't, she pressed a piece of paper into his hand and ran off the bridge into the darkening night. Murphy stood there, watching her go, tears rolling down his cheeks. After about fifteen minutes, a clap of thunder startled him, and he looked down at the object she had given him.

It was a picture from their high school graduation. There were three pictures that had the three of them together, and only one where Murphy and Caitlin had been together alone. Murphy had the photograph of the three of them, with Caitlin in the middle, the twins on either side. She was beaming at the camera while the brothers pressed a kiss to both cheeks.

The one Caitlin had given him was the one he had begged her for, for as long as she had had it. It was their only picture together, without Connor, and Caitlin's arms were around his neck, her cheek pressed to his. They both looked completely and totally blissful, and the moment had been ruined by Connor not two seconds after the flash, but it was Murphy's favorite picture. With a sigh, he shoved the photograph into his pocket and set off the opposite way she had gone. He needed to get home before the rain started. Connor would be worried.

'_Cause when you're talking out loud and nobody's there_

_You look like hell and you just don't care_

_You're drinking more than you ever drank_

_Sinking down lower than you ever sank_

"Looks like you've had enough, friend. Best go easy." The bartender stared in amazement as the young man at the bar downed his thirteenth beer in one fell swoop. The man had dark hair and a pale complexion, but his brow was furrowed from frustration and his eyes, so blue they almost seemed like crystals, were darkened with the combined alcohol and some sadness the bartender couldn't place.

"Gimme 'nother. I ain't done drinkin' her from me mind." Murphy's words slurred themselves together and he had to steady himself on the bar to keep from tipping. The bartender looked at the other young man next to the drunk, the one with lighter brown hair and a healthy tan. The drunk's brother, the barkeep decided, after the second young man surveyed the first and nodded half-heartedly. "Aye. Give 'im another. He'll regret in the mornin', but maybe that'll teach 'im, eh?" He nodded as the bartender sat down two beers, one for him and one for his brother.

Murphy grabbed the glass, but couldn't focus enough to take a drink. "Connor," he croaked. "Connor, I can't drink. The fuck is this?"

Connor sighed and stood, paying the bartender and grabbing his twin's arm. "That's our cue. 'Night, boyos. Thanks very much for the pity." He managed to stagger Murphy out of the door before the dark twin's legs collapsed and he dragged his brother to the ground. "She's still there, Conn. Why can't I forget 'er?"

Biting his lip in pain as his knee scraped along the dirty pavement, Connor summoned all his strength and hoisted Murphy over his shoulder. "Ye don't need to forget 'er, brother. Just let go of 'er memory a bit."

Murphy's head drooped lower and he sniffed pitifully. "Easier said than done, ye know?"

Connor nodded. "Yeah. I know."

_When you find yourself falling down upon your knees_

_Praying to God, begging him "please"_

_That's when she's_

_More than a memory_

"Ma? Ma, it's me, Murphy!"

"Murphy? Is that you?"

"Aye."

"Where's Connor?"

"He went out to get some smokes."

"Ah. So this is a fuckin' sneaky call, eh? Well, I still ain't tellin' ye who was born first, so quit fuckin' askin'."

"Alright, but Ma, that's not why I fuckin' called."

"Oh?"

"No."

"Well, out with it, ye ungrateful little bastard. I got things to do today, and I can't be wastin' time fuckin' burnin' money with ye."

"Alright. Ma, have ye heard from Cathleen McPhee in a while?"

"Aye. She's still around. Why?"

"Just curious. Her boys still doin' okay?"

"Ah, well, that's a tragedy. The four oldest, Matt, Mark, Luke, and John, they're all okay. But the youngest one, Kevin, he's been shacked up for the past six months for God knows what. The rumor is, they put him away simply for bein' Irish. Fuckin' Protestants…"

"What about her daughter? Caitlin? How's she?"

"I knew there was somethin' behind this. She was fine the last time I saw her."

"When was that, Ma?"

"Oh, about eight months ago. She left town to go God knows where."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I'm not everyone's fuckin' confidante. Oh, here's Cathleen, I'll ask her."

"No, Ma—"

"She says Caitlin went to America about six months ago. Just up and left. Imagine that… Murphy?"

"You're sure she said Caitlin came over here, Ma?"

"Of course I'm fuckin' sure. I ain't deaf yet. Why?"

"Nothin'. I think I hear Connor and Da, so I'll give them yer best, and love ye!"

"Murphy? The fuck is wrong with that boy?"

_People say she's only in my head_

_Going to take time but I'll forget_


End file.
